Happy Father's Day?

*Disclaimer: The decision to post this was a difficult one, and in openness, I've decided to share it with you. It's a bit of a heavier post and topic, but the end is where we should focus, and you can always feel free to skip to the end. I hope you enjoy this post. You should tell me your story...*

June 17th, 2012, is yet another "Hallmark Holiday." The second most important people in our lives are to be celebrated and cherished. It's a day where we focus all our attention on the person who taught us how to ride a bike, hit a baseball, and change a tire. Fathers. They're one of the most important people to look at when we search for our identity and determine who we are and who we're going to be. They're the ones who are supposed to walk us down the aisle and hold their newborn grandchildren at the hospital wearing the "Proud Grandfather" shirt and smile

Fathers are the people who can quite literally make or break the rest of our lives. If you've been lucky enough to have a great dad, I truly am jealous of you. But if you, like me, have a not-so-great dad, father's day might be tough for you. Fathers are supposed to be there from the moment we are born. They're there for our first breath, first steps, first loves, first house... Well, most of them, anyway.

But in complete vulnerability, I've decided to share an excerpt of my story. Something I share with few people, now to be shared with all of you. (Since, after all, my blog does say "tell me your story, show me your wounds...")

When I was 8, my parents got a divorce. I very much knew what was going on. As time passed, I grew to be more independent. My mom and dad pinned me and my siblings up against the other parent. We were being pulled in every different direction. Things looked okay from the outside, but inside, there were hurtful words. Words that should never be said to any child. EVER. My dad denied it. Even when he was told about it and saw the hurt we had experienced, there was no remorse, no guilt, no shame, no empathy. There was nothing. No one would ever see the scars, because the beatings we had experienced were not physical. The control and bounds we had been held captive to were invisible. Who would ever believe a child?

My self-reliance had grown exponentially. My mom had gone back to school and was working, so my siblings and I were home alone often. Being a middle child, I was strong-willed. I knew what I wanted and was determined to work to get it. I recognized the verbal and emotional abuse and didn't need to deal with it anymore. By 13 years old, I had had enough. After getting sick at summer camp, I wanted to stay at my house and rest. My dad wanted me to go with him. I refused. I laid on the couch, crying out of fear. He left. I was terrified that he would try to come take me. The first day of 8th grade came and went. As soon as I hopped off the bus and saw him walking toward me, I ran. I ran to the front office to call my mom. Because my parents had gone to court that summer, since I had refused to go with my dad, they ruled that I could return to visitations or I could go to counseling with him. I chose counseling. That's a story for another time.

After I was forced to resume visitation with him December of my 8th grade year, things didn't get any better. Counseling hadn't helped. My dad had shown no response to the fact that he had hurt me. By February, he had had enough of me. He dropped me off with my mom, not giving a reason why, and told my mom I couldn't go with him until "the air was cleared." Whatever that meant, the air has still never been cleared.

Don't get me wrong. I love my dad. Despite what he's done. I don't love him because he's my dad. I love him because, as a Christian, it's what I'm called to do. But it's not an obligation - it's a genuine love for him.

I've been lucky enough to have men at my church who I can look up to as a father figure, who have "taken me into" their families as "one of their own." I've had father figures leave me, too, but I know that there's one Daddy who won't leave me. My earthly dad might suck, but my true Daddy is eternal, and despite ME leaving Him, I know He'll always love me. I plan on thanking some of my friend's dad's on father's day, for showing me what a father is supposed to look like and how to show love to his children and wife, so one day I can find a guy like that.

The purpose of this post is not to show you how lame my dad is, but to show you that, no matter your relationship with your dad, you can still find hope on Father's Day.

1 John 3:1 - "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him."
How great the love our our Abba Daddy... Those of us who feel like we might not belong in our own families, we know that we belong in God's family. How great is that? We belong in a loving family, with a loving Daddy, despite how broken our families on earth may be. We can celebrate our Abba Daddy because of His love for us, His kids, and the things He's done for us. Maybe he never played basketball with you or let you beat him in a game of chess, but He's let us win over something so much bigger than that - sin, because with Him, we are more than conquerors.

So, my challenge to you is, no matter how great or how dumb your father is, take comfort in the fact that you can still celebrate a Daddy who loves you forever and ever.